


Memories of Home

by DriftingFarandWide



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: M/M, Wings, soul-mates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-27
Updated: 2016-09-27
Packaged: 2018-08-18 05:04:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8150053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DriftingFarandWide/pseuds/DriftingFarandWide
Summary: This is a story about winged people surviving life and trying to make sense of everything.Enjoy a cup of Klance with a dash of unnecessarily complicated soul-mate magic and angst.This was going to be short. The story board is no longer short.Oh well, here we go on a wild ride.I've got no idea where this thing is going to stop.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this based off a picture that the amazing artist Elentori did in a stream.  
> I'll add a link once the final picture gets posted.  
> Enjoy the feather-brains!

       The blistering wind gusting upward from the desert floor ruffled Keith’s hair in a way he had missed. It felt like home. It wasn’t, not really, but it was the closest thing to the volcanic reaches where he had been born that his people had yet found.  
       He closed his eyes and unfurled his rust-hued wings, reveling in the strength of the updraft, letting the warmth soothe his aching heart. The pain was dull most days, but today it was hitting harder than usual. He sucked in a sharp breath at the memories that leapt unbidden to his mind’s eye.

* * *

 

       It had been a nightmare. The volcanic landscape that the flame aven had inhabited for generations had been volatile for almost a decade, warning of impending eruption. When the once dormant island first began to rumble, the aven listened, preparing to make the journey to the mainland to wait out the island’s inner turmoil if the need arose. They moved to the outer ring of forest, and waited. But the eruption never came. They began to relax, and a number of them began to move back to their aeries among the rocky crags of the island’s central peak and the surrounding jagged spires.

       Then the tremors ceased entirely. Several new fissures issuing lava from the side of the mountain were documented by the scouts, and it seemed that the island had vented its extra pressure.

       They were wrong.

       Keith had awoken that terrible night, six months earlier, to a sight that would be forever etched into his memory. Lines of lurid, liquid red pulsed out of jagged rents in the ground. The lush forests that had once lain peaceful in the valleys below were alight, a sickly ashen glow that bathed everything else in crimson. Cries of terror came from above and below as the denizens of the island sought shelter against the hail of flaming cinders that rained from above. And above it all, the mountain heaved, venting clouds of ash while lava sheeted down its slopes.

       In panic, Keith spread his wings to leap from his aerie, and as he did, a piece of brimstone the size of a fist nearly took off his head. As the island shook and rumbled, he managed to lift off, joining the trickle of others who had managed to avoid the destructive radius of the eruption.

       Those with homes directly on the reaches of the peak had stood no chance. They were obliterated even before the brunt of the eruption reached them, their homes collapsing on them under the intensity of the mountain’s vibrations. Most of those who had roosted in the surrounding spires received enough warning to be able to flee before the ash rolled over the island like a deadly blanket. Those that were unable to flee did not survive, the razor ash sealing their doom.

       By the time a scouting party was able to make the return journey, once the ash had settled, there was nothing left. The island has spent itself, vanishing by degrees under the waves until only a few rocks jutting from the surface gave any hint that an island had ever existed.  
       They had all had to face a hard truth that day. They would not be going home.

       Their home was gone.

* * *

 

       He was suddenly startled from his reverie by an unexpected shift in the wind. A whisper of cold had reached him atop the spire where he stood, a paradox in the desert heat. Something was wrong. He snapped his wings shut in confusion, releasing a trail of embers into the air around him. His eyes widened with surprise - there was a patch of white against the desert floor that he had never seen before, and it seemed wrong somehow.”What IS that?”He adjusted the bag strapped to his back in between his wings, then tipped forward, letting himself fall towards the distant sand, before flaring his wings open and allowing the updraft to slow his descent to a manageable speed. As he swept towards the unknown shape below, it began to come into focus.

       It was not a what. It was a who.

       He beat his wings in a holding pattern about 50 feet away from the "who", making sure that the person was unarmed, before landing a short distance away from the figure on the desert floor. Of course, as is normal when making a first impression, he messed up. He managed to slip on the sand underneath his feet and nearly fell on his face. He beat his wings a couple of times to regain his balance, blowing sand in all directions, before looking up to find a very bemused look on the face of the person he had just sandblasted.

       "I coulda' landed that better than you, and I don't even live here," he said. "Excuse me?" Keith asked.  
He took stock of the being in front of him.

       What he had mistaken for a patch of white had in fact been the pale blue of the wings on the newcomer, - establishing him as a member of the people that lived in the icy mountains of the north - a startling contrast to the orange and brown stone and sand of the desert around them. Blue eyes, and brown hair (now dusted with sand), tanned skin, and, for some reason, a jacket of all things completed Keith's observation of the figure before him.  
"You heard me. I said I can fly better than you," said the figure.

       "Who are you?" asked Keith, trying not to show any discomfort in the aura of cold that was coming off of the newcomer.  
"I'm Lance. And you are?" He said, sticking out a hand for shaking. Keith looked at it, grimacing at the cold. "Keith." Keith answered, opting to ignore the extended hand, instead crossing his arms over his chest.

       "You look terrible. What is a snow aven doing here anyway?" Keith asked.  
Lance did indeed look terrible. True to tradition, the northern people were not made for heat. The heavy down on his wings must have been incredibly uncomfortable in the desert heat. He looked dehydrated and sunburnt.  
"Me? I'm just out exploring," Lance said nonchalantly, "I could ask you the same question. What's an fire-starter like yourself doing here on the mainland?" He waved a hand dismissively, "Everyone knows you always stay on that little island of yours in the middle of nowhere."

       "Sometimes people need a change of scenery," answered Keith. _Especially when that scenery no longer exists._ But he wasn't about to share that information with this northerner, who had as much bluster as one of the storms from his homeland. Things were rarely friendly between Ice and Fire aven, and while there had been no open hostilities as of yet, (mostly due to the sheer distance between their homelands), it probably was not wise to share their level of vulnerability with someone who might ultimately prove to be an enemy.

       "We've been here for a few months now. The mainland is more interesting to see than the one island that I've lived on for 19 years. But why are you really out here? There's literally nothing but sand in this region, and you don't seem to be prepared for this kind of heat." He said, gesturing at Lance's jacket and referencing his distinct lack of supplies.  
"Of course I am! I'm always ready for anything!" exclaimed Lance, who suddenly swayed and sat down with a bump on the sand.

       "Right. Definitely prepared." Keith's words dripped sarcasm as he rolled his eyes. "Stay here, I'll be back." He stepped back and spread his wings, crouching to give himself a jumping start as he thrust them down towards the ground. He caught the updraft again, expertly maneuvering himself around the edge of a nearby plateau that jutted hundreds feet into the air. He dipped towards a cleft in its side, slipping carefully inside the hollow mound, arresting his momentum by opening his wings, settling him gently onto the stone floor in front of the cavernous pool of water before him.

       He bent to fill his canteen at the water's edge, considering his interaction with this Lance character. He seemed harmless enough. He appeared to be around Keith's own age, which under normal circumstances would have left Keith at ease, but the events of the past few months had made Keith far more suspicious and on edge. Lance's claim of exploration was obviously a lie, but Keith could not see what other motive he might have to come to a place so obviously counter to his nature.

       Canteen full, Keith turned and climbed the set of stone stairs carved into the rock face that lead back up to the opening in the stone, still mulling over the oddities of this situation. He launched himself back into the air, banking against the wind to get back to where Lance would hopefully still be alive and waiting. A snow aven dying of heat related causes in the hands of a fire aven would NOT be good for relations between the two groups.

       At first glance, Lance appeared to be unconscious. He had laid down in the shade of one of the monoliths that towered over the desert floor, and was looking less heat stricken, but still terribly dehydrated. He moved to jump up as Keith came to much more graceful stop than before, but Keith waved him back down and handed him the canteen.

       Lance sniffed the canteen, then eagerly began to guzzle the water down.  
"Slow down!" Keith exclaimed. "It'll come back up if you don't."  
       Chastised, Lance continued drinking with slightly less enthusiasm.  
Keith sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. Suddenly he realized something. "Hey, you never answered my question. Why are you really here?"

       Lance looked up sheepishly. He looked back down at the canteen in his hands and seemed reluctant to answer, but he eventually muttered something quietly towards the sand.  
"You're going to have to speak up." Keith said.

       "I got lost," Lance answered,the words spilling out of his mouth. "I was showing off, and I flew too high, and this big air current just grabbed me, and it was cloudy and I couldn't see where I was going and--"  
"Whoa whoa whoa." Keith said, taking a step back and waving his hands in front of him. Internally, Keith was relieved. He had been afraid that this was some scouting mission by the north, though the wall of ridges around this region made that an unlikely scenario. He could deal with a lost show off. Heck, it might even help diplomatic relations to make sure this guy got home safely. But Keith wasn't sure where the ice mountains were in relation to this portion of the mainland.

       "Do you know which direction you came from?" Keith asked.  
The grin that Lance had been wearing when Keith had first landed came back as Lance pointed to sky and said, "Well obviously from heaven. I mean, look at me."He ended his statement by gesturing suggestively up and down his body.  
  
       Keith flushed slightly and bit back a retort. This would probably be important for his people, but darn it if he didn't just want to slap Lance upside the head and tell him to shut up. It didn't help that Lance wasn't completely wrong. He was not unattractive, Keith admitted to himself. It was a pity that he was an icer. Not to mention a cocky jerk. He settled for crossing his arms and giving Lance an exasperated look.

       Lance didn't look particularly chagrined, but he did answer the question this time. "No. It was cloudy below me when I got blown away and I couldn't see where I was going.”

       Keith just shook his head and unstrapped the bag from his back. Unlike Lance, he was always prepared, and for once his compass might come in handy.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! For those of you who are new and to those who are checking back to see if I've updated, I wanted to let you all know that this fic is on hiatus for the time being.  
> I've been working with the @Fishwrites, the author of Watercast, to record an audio version of her story, as well as working on another much larger scale fic.  
> I hope to come back to this one eventually, but for now those are taking my time and attention. Thank you to everyone who left a comment or kudos or bookmarked this, you all mean a lot to me.  
> I hope to post the first chapter of the other story soon. 
> 
> Thank you!  
> DriftingFarandWide


End file.
